Number Song

Related poetry:

1. Unlyric Love Song It is time to give that-of-myself which I could not at first: To offer you now at last my least and my worst: Minor, absurd preserves, The shell’s end-curves, A document kept at the back of a drawer, A tin hidden under the floor, Recalcitrant prides and hesitations: To pile them carefully in a desparate […]...
2. A Forgetful Number Once upon a time there was a number Pure and round like the sun But alone very much alone It began to reckon with itself It divided multiplied itself It subtracted added itself And remained always alone It stopped reckoning with itself And shut itself up in its round And sunny purity Outside were left […]...
3. The Oldest Song “These were never your true love’s eyes. Why do you feign that you love them? You that broke from their constancies, And the wide calm brows above them! This was never your true love’s speech. Why do you thrill when you hear it? You that have ridden out of its reach The width of the […]...
4. 536. Song-This is no my ain lassie Chorus-This is no my ain lassie, Fair tho, the lassie be; Weel ken I my ain lassie, Kind love is in her e’re. I SEE a form, I see a face, Ye weel may wi’ the fairest place; It wants, to me, the witching grace, The kind love that’s in her e’e. This is no […]...
5. A Noon Song There are songs for the morning and songs for the night, For sunrise and sunset, the stars and the moon; But who will give praise to the fulness of light, And sing us a song of the glory of noon? Oh, the high noon, the clear noon, The noon with golden crest; When the blue […]...
6. 382. Song-I'll meet thee on the Lea Rig WHEN o’er the hill the eastern star Tells bughtin time is near, my jo, And owsen frae the furrow’d field Return sae dowf and weary O; Down by the burn, where birken buds Wi’ dew are hangin clear, my jo, I’ll meet thee on the lea-rig, My ain kind Dearie O. At midnight hour, in […]...
7. Cockspur Bush I am lived. I am died. I was two-leafed three times, and grazed, But then I was stemmed and multiplied, Sharp-thorned and caned, nested and raised, Earth-salt by sun-sugar. I was innerly sung By thrushes who need fear no eyed skin thing. Finched, ant-run, flowered, I am given the years In now fewer berries, now […]...
8. A Song From The Italian (LIMBERHAM: OR, THE KIND KEEPER) By a dismal cypress lying, Damon cried, all pale and dying, Kind is death that ends my pain, But cruel she I lov’d in vain. The mossy fountains Murmur my trouble, And hollow mountains My groans redouble: Ev’ry nymph mourns me, Thus while I languish; She only scorns me, Who […]...
9. A Birthday Song. To S. G For ever wave, for ever float and shine Before my yearning eyes, oh! dream of mine Wherein I dreamed that time was like a vine, A creeping rose, that clomb a height of dread Out of the sea of Birth, all filled with dead, Up to the brilliant cloud of Death o’erhead. This vine bore […]...
10. May 24, 1980 I have braved, for want of wild beasts, steel cages, Carved my term and nickname on bunks and rafters, Lived by the sea, flashed aces in an oasis, Dined with the-devil-knows-whom, in tails, on truffles. From the height of a glacier I beheld half a world, the earthly width. Twice have drowned, thrice let knives […]...
11. 16-bit Intel 8088 chip with an Apple Macintosh You can’t run Radio Shack programs In its disc drive. Nor can a Commodore 64 Drive read a file You have created on an IBM Personal Computer. Both Kaypro and Osborne computers use The CP/M operating system But can’t read each other’s Handwriting For they format (write On) discs in different […]...
12. A Song For Kilts How grand the human race would be If every man would wear a kilt, A flirt of Tartan finery, Instead of trousers, custom built! Nay, do not think I speak to joke: (You know I’m not that kind of man), I am convinced that all men folk. Should wear the costume of a Clan. Imagine […]...
13. 340. Song-Thou Fair Eliza TURN again, thou fair Eliza! Ae kind blink before we part; Rue on thy despairing lover, Can’st thou break his faithfu’ heart? Turn again, thou fair Eliza! If to love thy heart denies, Oh, in pity hide the sentence Under friendship’s kind disguise! Thee, sweet maid, hae I offended? My offence is loving thee; Can’st […]...
14. The Red Blaze is the Morning The Red Blaze is the Morning The Violet is Noon The Yellow Day is falling And after that is none But Miles of Sparks at Evening Reveal the Width that burned The Territory Argent that Never yet consumed...
15. At leisure is the Soul At leisure is the Soul That gets a Staggering Blow The Width of Life before it spreads Without a thing to do It begs you give it Work But just the placing Pins Or humblest Patchwork Children do To Help its Vacant Hands...
16. Road-Song of the Bandar-Log (From The Jungle Book) Here we go in a flung festoon, Half-way up to the jealous moon! Don’t you envy our pranceful bands? Don’t you wish you had extra hands? Would n’t you like if your tails were so Curved in the shape of a Cupid’s bow? Now you’re angry, but never mind, Brother, thy […]...
17. How many schemes may die How many schemes may die In one short Afternoon Entirely unknown To those they most concern The man that was not lost Because by accident He varied by a Ribbon’s width From his accustomed route The Love that would not try Because beside the Door It must be competitions Some unsuspecting Horse was tied Surveying […]...
18. Somewhere upon the general Earth Somewhere upon the general Earth Itself exist Today The Magic passive but extant That consecrated me Indifferent Seasons doubtless play Where I for right to be Would pay each Atom that I am But Immortality Reserving that but just to prove Another Date of Thee Oh God of Width, do not for us Curtail Eternity!...
19. A British-Roman Song (A. D. 406) “A Centurion of the Thirtieth” Puck of Pook’s Hill My father’s father saw it not, And I, belike, shall never come To look on that so-holly spot That very Rome Crowned by all Time, all Art, all Might, The equal work of Gods and Man, City beneath whose oldest height The Race […]...
20. The Token Send me some token, that my hope may live, Or that my easeless thoughts may sleep and rest; Send me some honey to make sweet my hive, That in my passions I may hope the best. I beg no riband wrought with thine own hands, To knit our loves in the fantastic strain Of new-touched […]...
21. Dream Song 102: The sunburnt terraces which swans make home The sunburnt terraces which swans make home With water purling, Macchu Pichu died Like Delphi long ago— A message to Justinian closing it out, The thousand years’ authority, although Tho’ never found exactly wrong Political patterns did indeed emerge; The Oracle was conservative, like Lippmann, Roared the winds on the height, The Shining Ones behind […]...
22. A Song at Shannon's Two men came out of Shannon’s, having known The faces of each other for so long As they had listened there to an old song, Sung thinly in a wastrel monotone By some unhappy night-bird, who had flown Too many times and with a wing too strong To save himself; and so done heavy wrong […]...
23. Cruisers As our mother the Frigate, bepainted and fine, Made play for her bully the Ship of the Line; So we, her bold daughters by iron and fire, Accost and decoy to our masters’ desire. Now, pray you, consider what toils we endure, Night-walking wet sea-lanes, a guard and a lure; Since half of our trade […]...
24. No Man can compass a Despair No Man can compass a Despair As round a Goalless Road No faster than a Mile at once The Traveller proceed Unconscious of the Width Unconscious that the Sun Be setting on His progress So accurate the One At estimating Pain Whose own has just begun His ignorance the Angel That pilot Him along...
25. A Song Of Success Ho! we were strong, we were swift, we were brave. Youth was a challenge, and Life was a fight. All that was best in us gladly we gave, Sprang from the rally, and leapt for the height. Smiling is Love in a foam of Spring flowers: Harden our hearts to him on let us press! […]...
26. Sonnet 38 – First time he kissed me, he but only kissed First time he kissed me, he but only kissed The fingers of this hand wherewith I write; And ever since, it grew more clean and white, Slow to world-greetings, quick with its ‘Oh, list,’ When the angels speak. A ring of amethyst I could not wear here, plainer to my sight, Than that first kiss. […]...
27. The Cat's Song Mine, says the cat, putting out his paw of darkness. My lover, my friend, my slave, my toy, says The cat making on your chest his gesture of drawing Milk from his mother’s forgotten breasts. Let us walk in the woods, says the cat. I’ll teach you to read the tabloid of scents, To fade […]...
28. Song FOR her gait, if she be walking; Be she sitting, I desire her For her state’s sake; and admire her For her wit if she be talking; Gait and state and wit approve her; For which all and each I love her. Be she sullen, I commend her For a modest. Be she merry, For […]...
29. I had a daily Bliss I had a daily Bliss I half indifferent viewed Till sudden I perceived it stir It grew as I pursued Till when around a Height It wasted from my sight Increased beyond my utmost scope I learned to estimate....
30. Village in Late Summer LIPS half-willing in a doorway. Lips half-singing at a window. Eyes half-dreaming in the walls. Feet half-dancing in a kitchen. Even the clocks half-yawn the hours And the farmers make half-answers....
31. These are the Signs to Nature's Inns These are the Signs to Nature’s Inns Her invitation broad To Whosoever famishing To taste her mystic Bread These are the rites of Nature’s House The Hospitality That opens with an equal width To Beggar and to Bee For Sureties of her staunch Estate Her undecaying Cheer The Purple in the East is set And […]...
32. 199. Song-My Peggy's Charms MY Peggy’s face, my Peggy’s form, The frost of hermit Age might warm; My Peggy’s worth, my Peggy’s mind, Might charm the first of human kind. I love my Peggy’s angel air, Her face so truly heavenly fair, Her native grace, so void of art, But I adore my Peggy’s heart. The lily’s hue, the […]...
33. 218. Song-Talk of him that's Far Awa MUSING on the roaring ocean, Which divides my love and me; Wearying heav’n in warm devotion, For his weal where’er he be. Hope and Fear’s alternate billow Yielding late to Nature’s law, Whispering spirits round my pillow, Talk of him that’s far awa. Ye whom sorrow never wounded, Ye who never shed a tear, Care-untroubled, […]...
34. 207. Song-I'm O'er Young to Marry yet Chorus.-I’m o’er young, I’m o’er young, I’m o’er young to marry yet; I’m o’er young, ‘twad be a sin To tak me frae my mammy yet. I AM my mammny’s ae bairn, Wi’ unco folk I weary, sir; And lying in a man’s bed, I’m fley’d it mak me eerie, sir. I’m o’er young, &c. […]...
35. The Saginaw Song In Saginaw, in Saginaw, The wind blows up your feet, When the ladies’ guild puts on a feed, There’s beans on every plate, And if you eat more than you should, Destruction is complete. Out Hemlock Way there is a stream That some have called Swan Creek; The turtles have bloodsucker sores, And mossy filthy […]...
36. The Song Of The Pacifist What do they matter, our headlong hates, when we take the toll of our Dead? Think ye our glory and gain will pay for the torrent of blood we have shed? By the cheers of our Victory will the heart of the mother be comforted? If by the Victory all we mean is a broken […]...
37. 250. Song-She's Fair and Fause SHE’S fair and fause that causes my smart, I lo’ed her meikle and lang; She’s broken her vow, she’s broken my heart, And I may e’en gae hang. A coof cam in wi’ routh o’ gear, And I hae tint my dearest dear; But Woman is but warld’s gear, Sae let the bonie lass gang. […]...
38. 424. Song-Phillis the Fair WHILE larks, with little wing, Fann’d the pure air, Tasting the breathing Spring, Forth I did fare: Gay the sun’s golden eye Peep’d o’er the mountains high; Such thy morn! did I cry, Phillis the fair. In each bird’s careless song, Glad I did share; While yon wild-flowers among, Chance led me there! Sweet to […]...
39. 'Twas warm at first like Us ‘Twas warm at first like Us Until there crept upon A Chill like frost upon a Glass Till all the scene be gone. The Forehead copied Stone The Fingers grew too cold To ache and like a Skater’s Brook The busy eyes congealed It straightened that was all It crowded Cold to Cold It multiplied […]...
40. From Citron-Bower From citron-bower be her bed, Cut from branch of tree a-flower, Fashioned for her maidenhead. From Lydian apples, sweet of hue, Cut the width of board and lathe, Carve the feet from myrtle-wood. Let the palings of her bed Be quince and box-wood overlaid With the scented bark of yew. That all the wood in […]...